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Found an old beginning...

As I wait for my next book to be polished (yes it'll be out soon!) I've been cleaning up my computer. I found the beginning of a weird story that I barely remember writing... I'm a bit intrigued as to what the hell I was thinking and where I was going with it... It's unedited so don't go yelling at me for mistakes--I make a ton of them.

Part 1

Standing,
shivering in front of his door in the greyish overcast shadows of the
afternoon, my belly flutters low with rolls that would outshine the thunder
that rumbles across the sky.Cool rain slicks
dark strands of my hair to my neck and plasters the thin cotton of my shirt
across my breasts.Fat drops of rain
cling to my eyelashes and stream down my cheeks.

The need to see
him consumes me.I’ve tried to make a
conscious effort not to end up here, in front of his door, but he has spread his
poison in me like a growing disease—purging everything that’s me and leaving
only him behind.

When the light
from the door stretches a long shadow of my body behind me I shiver harder
against the cool droplets of rain that have now seeped into the white cotton of
my panties.

He steps to the
side and jerks his head harshly, a hard raw greeting.As I pass I can feel the heat rolling off his
skin and the predatory look in his eyes makes my throat dry.This is my dark place, where fear stands
tall, and love and obsession have a thin blurry line that I can no longer see.

Dripping streaks
of rain across the floor, I let my bag slide off my shoulder and fall into the
growing puddle beneath my feet.

His long legs stride
past me, and he grabs an open beer bottle from off the kitchen table bringing
it slowly to his lips.He doesn’t offer
me anything.Not even a goddamn towel to
dry myself off with.

He’s on me before
I can see him move.My back slams against
the door and as he cups his thick hands under the flesh of my skirt, he lifts
me off my feet sliding me against the wood grain of the door.Lips devouring mine, tongue tasting me
deeply, teeth biting roughly, I hook my legs around his waist to get closer.

“You should be
terrified of me, Scarlett,” he says, pulling roughly away from my mouth.

“Oh Gunnar,” I
offer up a little chuckle.“Is that what
you call a threat?”

He runs his lips
along my jaw, slowly sliding them up against my ear, “Why, Scarlett is this a
challenge?”

Part 2

The thick fingers
holding me against the door are now digging deeper into my flesh.“I wouldn’t play games if I were you.”The dark rasp of his threat lay just beneath
his lips despite the hint of a smile that peeks out.His hands tighten.Painfully.

“Wasn’t playing a
game,” I say in the calmest voice I could gather.

The grip on the
back of my thighs squeezes my flesh tighter, his fingers dig in along the trim
of my panties, teasing what lay underneath.His weight leans into me more, crushing me against the wall.I want to wiggle, to move just a little to
try to get those fingers to slip further into where I want them.

“Don’t try and
struggle now, pretty little Scarlett.You can’t get away,” he says, grinding his hips in between my thighs,
rolling his arousal against the heat.

“I’m not trying…”
I hiss as his rough fingertips dip under the damp material.

“Shut up.” Gunner
circles his hips again, and then again, and fuuuck,
again.

Despite us both
being totally clothed, the movements are obscene and so damn arousing.

Then as abruptly
as he pounced, he quickly releases his hold on my legs, taking a step back
causing me to slide down the door and hit my ass to the floor hard.His shirt had ridden up, his long hair
snarled and tangled from my fists; he looks every bit of breathless as I felt.

“Leave.” That’s
all he says.

Clawing my way to
my feet, I stand unsteadily by the door.

Walking back into
the kitchen he removes another beer from the refrigerator, biting off the cap
with his teeth, and spitting it to the floor.Reaching out his arms, fully colored tattoos dance above the movement of
his muscles, he graba a flat black gun off the top of the counter and shoves it
in the waistband of his pants.

“I said leave.
You’re too easy to fucking break,” he growls.

“You got that
wrong Gunnar. I’m already broken.”

But I leave anyway—walk
right out the door. Because I know. I
know when he realizes who I am—when he realizes what I am—he
won’t be asking me to leave. He’ll be fighting for me to stay.

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